Page 107 of Fire and Silk
That’s what I chose.
Mico will get his goodbye. And then I’ll move on.
I walk to the bed and pull the covers back. The other side is still neat. He never sat down. Never touched the sheets. I sink into my side slowly, careful not to let the robe twist beneath me.
The fabric on his side smells like him.
Not cologne. Just clean cotton and something deeper—something I don’t have words for.
I press my face to the sheet. Inhale.
Then I reach for one of the pillows. It still holds the weight of his head. I pull it toward me and wrap both arms around it, dragging it close until it presses against my chest.
I bury my face in it.
It’s not the same as having him here.
But it will do.
****
The maid sets another dress on the bed, waiting for my approval. I shake my head. She moves to the wardrobe, wordless, and pulls out the next one.
I sit at the edge of the mattress, legs crossed at the ankle. My eyes drift to the full-length mirror. My hair is already tied up, parted in the center, pulled into a low knot. A few wisps have fallen around my temples. I smooth them back, then stop.
The black dress she holds up now is simple, structured, sleeveless. Silk, maybe. It catches light just slightly—enough to signal elegance without needing to prove it.
I nod.
She lays it carefully on the bed, smoothing the fabric flat. I stand, shrug off the robe, and let her help me into it. The zipper hums quietly. She steps around, adjusts the shoulders, then the hem.
I face the mirror again.
Do I look different?
I blink . My eyes settle on my own mouth. I feel a little thinner. Sharper. Like everything inside me had to fold smaller to fit into this shape.
Will he even recognize me?
I don’t know if Severo’s coming.
I hadn’t asked. He hadn’t offered. We haven’t spoken since last night.
The maid finishes tidying the room and leaves silently. I sit for a while longer, legs crossed, hands resting on my lap.
The hallway is quiet when I step out. The floor beneath my heels clicks softly.
Matteo is leaning against the wall by the stairs, phone in one hand, earpiece in the other.
He straightens as I approach.
“Boss is waiting in the car,” he says.
My throat tightens. I nod, then start down the stairs.
****
The car is parked just outside the front door.
